


Coffee and Rain, Blood and Gasoline

by MyWorldofBrokenWords



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Magic, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWorldofBrokenWords/pseuds/MyWorldofBrokenWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan was all sharp edges. Static. The hiss of the “s” in snake. A blade, its dull gleam echoed in his eyes. Everything about him whispered a warning. Bold. Dangerous.<br/>Adam was all caution. Hard work. The feeling of the word exhausted with all the trappings of the word dream. Soft south and long summers tangled in brown hair the colour of freshly overturned dirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ronan was all sharp edges. Static. The hiss of the “s” in snake. A blade, its dull gleam echoed in his eyes. Everything about him whispered a warning. Bold. Dangerous.  
Adam was all caution. Hard work. The feeling of the word exhausted with all the trappings of the word dream. Soft south and long summers tangled in brown hair the colour of freshly overturned dirt.  
The first time Adam saw Ronan, really saw Ronan, he thought of sleek cars and smudges of ink; biting winter days and guns.  
The first time Ronan saw Adam, really saw Adam, he thought of home and spring wrapped in green grass; the curve of a jawline and sunrise. 

Adam hated the morning shift. Too many of his classmates from Aglionby University parading through the line, ordering the most complicated drinks and complaining when it took too long. Blue was usually helping him. Or David or Liss or Lisbet. But David was sick and Lisbet was taking care of him and Liss was out of town and Blue was late. Adam was struggling, so when Gansey stepped up to make his order, Adam didn’t even notice it was him.  
“Parrish,” he said. Adam paused. Took a second to stare at Gansey’s ardently pink polo and began to tap Gansey’s usual order into the computer.  
“Gansey,” Adam replied with a smile like a camera flash. 

Adam and Gansey’s friendship had begun with Gansey’s car breaking down. Adam was only a block from his apartment, on his way to a nine a.m. class when he noticed the boy in the lime-green shirt and expensive khakis, standing hopelessly next to a car that was nearly up on the sidewalk.  
Relief had crossed Gansey’s face when he’d seen Adam. His grin had been as bright as  
the sun glinting off the skyscrapers. Adam had been surprised. Of course, he knew Richard Gansey III, the son of a Congresswoman and a retired Congressman. And he knew Richard Gansey III’s car, But why did Richard Gansey III say his name with an undercurrent of happiness.  
“Adam Parrish, right?” he had said, the smile still in place.  
Adam had nodded.  
“Richard Gansey,” Gansey confirmed.  
“I know,” Adam said.  
Gansey laughed, carefree and genuine. “I suppose you would…. Hey, do you know anything about cars? The Pig,” he said, referring to the obnoxiously orange Camaro, “just died again, and the tow truck can’t get here for an hour.”  
Adam considered saying no. Felt his whole body quiver with the prospect. Saying no. Walking away and slipping back into the unnoticed at Aglionby. Surely it was better that way.  
But he had said yes. And once he’d fixed the Camaro- temporarily- Gansey had offered a ride. Adam couldn’t say no, he didn’t want Gansey to be stranded again. Not that anyone was truly stranded in New York City, but still.  
Also, if he hadn’t taken the ride, he would have been ten minutes late for class, and Adam was never late.  
That had been a week ago.

Since then, Gansey had included Adam in his lifetime research project: amassing all the information about Glendower- an old Welsh king- that had ever existed.  
But having Gansey right there, right now, in the middle of the seven a.m. rush, standing, ordering his latte with another Raven Boy by his side was making Adam’s newfound like of Gansey diminish a little bit.  
“I thought you preferred Starbucks,” Adam heard himself say to Gansey.  
“Usually,” Gansey conceded. “But I found something new. I could use your input. We’ll be over by the window. Thanks.” And Gansey smiled, the other Aglionby boy just a quick blip on Adam’s radar as Gansey shoved a five in the tip jar. Adam stared disdainfully at it for a moment, not even looking at Gansey’s companion while taking his order and making his coffee.  
The next fifteen minutes were steam and sweat and silent swearing as everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong. Adam just kept praying that his shift at his other job later wouldn’t be such a mishap.  
Finally, Blue slammed the back door open with her hip while tying her hair up. In between her teeth were the bobby pins that were required to keep up the choppy, asymmetrical dark bob that always had small chunks escaping and sliding into her face.  
“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, sliding the last of the bobby pins into her hair.  
“You’re okay,” he said. “I managed. The rush is over for now.”  
“God. I’m really sorry now,” Blue said. They served the last, straggling, hassled Aglionby student who ran out without shoving a tip into the jar. The only nice thing about Aglionby students was that they always tipped. Throwing money around because to them it was disposable.  
It made Adam cringe. Adam who always had to work for every penny he had.  
When Blue stepped up on tiptoe to kiss Adam’s on the cheek- she was 5’ to Adam’s 5’ 11”- she smelled like lavender and cloves. Her whole apartment was a clash of scents, each room, like the many occupants, having its own fragrance. Adam could tell, just by how Blue smelled, the number of rooms from which she’d taken her clothes that morning. Lavender was hers and cloves was Calla’s. Probably the scarf which Blue used like a shawl was Calla’s.  
They’d worked together here, at the Alto, for nearly a year before they’d started dating. Blue was small but intimidating. All teeth and strong words and eclectic. Strong. Independent.  
If Adam had to assign Blue a colour, it wouldn’t be her name. It would be red. Fire.  
When Adam looked at Blue, he saw a million things he was and a million things he would never be, even though he wished for them.  
“I’ll clean up and do the dishes,” Blue said. “It will hopefully make up for my lateness.”  
Adam smiled and kissed her on the cheek. The Alto had two customers in it and probably would not gain more for another half an hour. Gansey and the other Aglionby boy were sitting by the window as Gansey had promised. Now Adam saw a shaved head and a feral smirk. A raven tattoo on his shoulder and another tattoo curling its way up his neck. 

Ronan Lynch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan believed that there were three types of secrets. There were secrets you kept from other people. Secrets you kept from yourself. And secrets that never would be known because they were so ancient everyone who once knew them was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, don't be afraid to comment. In fact, it's encouraged.  
> Let me know what's working and what's not so I can improve in the next chapters.
> 
> Thanks!!!  
> Julia ^_^

Ronan Lynch had a hangover, so when Gansey suggested that they go to get some coffee, he didn’t protest, despite the early hour. When Gansey suggested the Alto Ronan found himself even less inclined to dissent. He didn’t have a specific reason he liked the small coffee shop, sandwiched between the Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks on one of the darker streets of New York.  
Or so he told himself.  
Ronan believed that there were three types of secrets. There were secrets you kept from other people. Secrets you kept from yourself. And secrets that never would be known because they were so ancient everyone who once knew them was dead.  
He liked the Alto because of the second secret, the one he kept from himself. And he was very very fine with it staying buried in the extreme back of his mind that place where the cobwebs grew in the dusty corners. In fact, he imagined a spider such as Shelob guarding it, wrapping it in layers and layers of webs.  
Gansey carried a backpack stuffed with dictionaries and books in Welsh for which he needed the dictionaries, and school books. In his hands was his journal, the one Ronan thought was a strange sort of beautiful. The edges of the leather were worn, and some of the pages were held in by scotch tape and wishful thinking. Gansey had it open as he walked and so it fell to Ronan to make sure Gansey didn’t walk into people or buildings and that people- and potentially buildings, although Ronan doubted the existence of walking buildings- from running into him.  
Ronan brought his wrist to his mouth, chewing on the leather bands sort of nervously but mostly thoughtlessly. He used his other hand to nudge Gansey to the right, putting him out of the path of a bicycle hurtling toward them through the crowd. Gansey looked up, smiled a little. “I saw that coming.”  
“Sure you did,” Ronan said. It lacked much venom, though. His head was pounding too hard for his sarcasm to be at full power. Also, it was fucking early. Seven o’ clock. His first class, if he decided to go, wasn’t until ten. The only thing Ronan carried was a sketchpad, a mechanical pencil tucked inside the spiral, and his wallet in back pocket, and a packet of gum in his other pocket.  
Ronan turned left, and Gansey, a second later, followed. He closed the journal while opening the door to the Alto. No music played, even though it usually did. And Ronan saw why. The lone barista was battling a line that nearly stretched out the door.  
Ronan’s stomach clenched a little at the sight of brown hair curling into blue eyes and long fingers handling coffee cups. He dug fingernails into his wrist, instead of hurting things other than himself. He didn't want to cause this guy any more trouble.  
They crawled through the line. Ronan looked everywhere but ahead and Gansey studied the journal which he reopened. Ronan caught a page that fluttered down. Gansey shut the journal and turned to Ronan.  
“You’re not skipping class today,” Gansey said, fixing him with a stare. “Declan promised me that if you skipped again he would come up from D.C. I don’t want that. You don’t want that.”  
Ronan shrugged. “I could use a good fight.”  
“Ronan,” Gansey said, his voice stern.  
“I won’t skip,” Ronan said, a sigh in his voice. He held up the sketchpad as proof. It was the only major that ever interested him, even in the slightest. And with his father’s will forcing Ronan to attend Aglionby until he graduated- otherwise the money meant for him would go to Declan. And no one wanted that.- Ronan had been forced to choose something. So he chose art, which he had hoped meant fewer books and lectures.  
Which from Ronan’s viewpoint, he did. He skipped most of the classes, never did any reading, and got by on the exams for which he actually made something.  
Ironic, really, that nearly everything made him want to destroy something, not create anything.  
They finally reached the beginning of the line. Gansey smiled, one of those effervescent, presidential smiles for a second. But then it slid into the one he usually reserved for Ronan and Noah.  
“Parrish,” he said, his eyes sparkling. Ronan’s stomach twisted again, and again he dug fingernails into his wrist.  
The boy-Parrish had to be his last name, right?- smiled back at Gansey, quickly, then started making Gansey’s coffee. Ronan ordered something with a shitload of caffeine and no flavouring. Parrish barely glanced at Ronan. Ronan tried to barely glance at him.  
Vaguely he heard Gansey comment something about sitting near the window. Ronan just followed. The moment they were at the table Gansey started in on Glendower. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, tracing lines in the tabletop with his finger, “that Glendower might have been buried somewhere in New York.”  
Ronan fixed him with a gaze, crossing his arms across his chest. “New York?”  
“Yes. I was convinced he was in Virginia. Every sign pointed to it. But now… I’m not so sure,” Gansey pointed to a page in the journal. It showed a map, lines crisscrossing the Atlantic Ocean from the island of Great Britain. “This shows the various places they could have come to shore.”  
“And what makes you think that New York is where they landed?” Ronan asked. Gansey started a conversation which waxed eloquently about tides and wind patterns and Welsh ships.  
Until the Alto was nearly empty save for Parrish and a girl dressed in an amalgam of different styles and black hair tied up in a spiky ponytail. Ronan glanced down at his sketch pad on which he had drawn a raven. It was the same Raven that was on his shoulder, whom he'd affectionately named Chainsaw. When he glanced up, The girl was kissing Parrish on the cheek. And a tiny part of him sighed a defeated “oh.” The part which he never acknowledged.  
His pencil lead broke, skittering across the table. He took a sharp breath in through his teeth. Then he let it go until later when he could destroy something. Or create something. Sometimes his own reactions surprised him. He expected to want to destroy. Rip, tear, smash things. And all of the time he was in high school, that was what he did. But now that he'd learned to create, he often, instead of breaking, he's throw his energy into something else. A sketch, a sculpture.  
But something inside of him told him that this would not be solved with a creation. This would need a destruction.  
Parrish began to walk toward the window. Ronan felt the tension. The hostility rising up to cover the pain.  
Gansey cut off as he saw the approaching figure. He smiled. “Hey. Ronan, this is Adam Parrish. He's in our year at Aglionby. Adam, this is Ronan Lynch.”  
“Are you the replacement for Noah?” Ronan felt himself say.  
Gansey sighed. Quietly, but Ronan could hear it. He wished he hadn't said it, but he had had to. It was the only way he knew how.  
“Noah?” Adam asked. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. Then he took a seat at the table, and everything about him relaxed, but his eyes told Ronan that his mind was still running, running, running.  
He shoved that observation into the webs that ran the back of his mind. Stuck to never get out.  
“Noah Czerny. He stayed behind in Virginia. We went to highschool together.” Gansey said, swiftly patching up confusion as quickly as possible. Gansey didn't like awkwardness.  
Ronan thought that this really didn't explain Noah sufficiently. Noah was nearly a ghost, flitting in and out of their classes, houses, lives. But Noah was a constant even as he was unpredictable. He was both extremely sad and intensely happy. Always smudged with dirt, but his room was always clean.  
No, Gansey did not sufficiently explain Noah. But how did you explain the dead, really? Yes, Noah had stayed behind, but it wasn't by choice; it was in a grave near an old, abandoned church.  
Ronan's fingernails bit into his wrist again. He wished that he could just leave. Run back to Monmouth Manufacturing and to his BMW and to the streets and to the feeling that overtook every other feeling. The only way he ever felt vaguely okay. Vaguely like he was normal.  
Adam's eyes narrowed. He knew that Gansey wasn't saying something. He didn't push it though, just leaned forward, eyes fixed on Gansey, and said, "So this new piece of proof. What is it?"  
Gansey immediately became alive. His eyes lit up, his smile slid from reassuring to excited. He was this Gansey that Ronan used to think was only for him and sometimes Helen. He opened his journal and pointed to a map that was nearly in the centre of the entire beautiful monstrosity. He began in on the speech he had given Ronan. About tides and wind patterns. Ronan finished the shading on his pencil sketch of Chainsaw. Some day he would actually have a pet raven. But how did one find a pet store that sold a carrion bird? Even in New York that seemed highly unlikely. Adam asked all the right sorts of questions where Ronan did not, and he finally understood why Gansey liked him. He took it seriously. Ronan sometimes treated it like a joke, like something that Gansey would abandon, even though he un-waveringly believed that some day they would find Glendower's grave.  
Ronan commented dryly: "So we just search every cemetery in New York until we find Glendower?"  
Gansey laughed. "That would take absolutely forever. No, he's probably just outside the city, not right here." He leaned back, running his thumb over his lower lip.  
Adam sighed. "I think that the best idea would be to find a few more clues as to where. We can't just search everywhere in the countryside until we find more evidence of Glendower. Look, I'm going to go help Blue clean up. We can talk on our way to class."  
Gansey smiled. "Of course."  
Ronan turned to Gansey as soon as Adam left, disappearing into the back with one last glance at the table by the window. "Do you have internet on your phone?" Ronan asked.  
Gansey said, "If you tell me what that was about."  
"Are you seriously trying to replace Noah?" Ronan asked, picking at the rubber band around his wrist. Gansey sighed.  
"Of course not, Ronan. I'm just... oh, I don't know. I guess I am replacing him, but not in the way you think." He took a sip of his latte, which by now had to be stone cold. Ronan's eyes narrowed.  
"Is there any other way?" Ronan said. He stood, kicked away his chair and headed outside. The air was cool, nipping at his cheeks and sending misting rain into his eyes. He kicked at the wall.  
First his father, now Noah, who next?  
Gansey?  
Matthew?  
Even fucking Declan.  
He took in a deep breath to calm himself. Then he began to walk. To Monmouth. To Aglionby's Student Centre. To the ocean to hurl himself in. He didn't know, just let his feet take him where they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to update by Tuesday. I can't promise anything. I started this with no plan, so there's a bit of a stall. Sorry, guys!
> 
> Julia ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Adam felt his heart swell as soon as Lisbet walked in. Happiness, beyond happiness that his shift was over.  
“Get going, you look exhausted,” Lisbet said. Adam laughed, sharply. Blue was making them each an iced coffee and as soon as she finished, they would be leaving. Exhausted was the word, bone deep and chest constricting. Blue handed him his coffee and tips. Adam stuffed the tip money into his back pocket and took a long sip of his coffee.   
“Ready?” he asked Blue. She nodded, slipping her fingers into his.   
They slipped outside from the coffee-flavoured air into the smog-infested city. Rain formed a fine mist around them, and Gansey’s shoulders were dotted with spots of moisture. He’d been pacing back and forth for the last ten minutes, dialing Ronan in a way that could be described as obsessively.   
“Never answers his damn phone,” Gansey said, resignedly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Then he noticed Blue, standing next to Adam, looking both fierce and unshakable, something that Adam liked about her. She looked hard to tip over. Not that you would ever try. Ever.   
Gansey's smile was wide and brilliant as he looked at the newcomer. "Hello!" he said, immediately slipping into a politeness that slid over his face like a mask.   
Blue smiled back, but in it was an edge. Adam could tell that she already didn't like Gansey. "Hi," she said, her Henrietta accent pronounced as if she were trying to spite him. Or maybe that was only Adam's imagination. He was too aware of anything that would mark him as other. That would give anyone an insight into his past.  
"Gansey, this is my girlfriend, Blue," Adam said, carefully. He didn't want his accent to show, he didn't, he didn't.   
"Pleased to meet you, Blue. Is that like the colour?" Gansey said, sliding his iPhone into his back pocket.   
"What else would it be like?" Blue asked. It wasn't quite mean, but it wasn't accommodating, either.  
Gansey's smile slipped, but he shrugged. It was at once a self-effacing and charming thing, his shrugging. "Shall we?" he asked Adam. He held out his hand for a fist bump. Adam grinned, reciprocating the gesture. They began walking, Gansey a few steps ahead, pulling his phone from his pocket again.   
"Where's Ronan?" Adam asked.   
Gansey sighed. "I don't know. And his older brother, Declan, promised to come up from D.C. if he skipped another class, and no one wants that." He shook his head.   
"Gansey, you can't keep him from doing what he wants," Adam said.   
"I know," Gansey said. In his voice Adam hears, *But I can't help but try.*  
Blue tugged on Adam's hand a little. "I turn here," she said. "See you later."  
"I'll pick you up at eight?" Adam said. "Actually, make that eight-thirty. I'm working at the garage tonight, I'll need to change."  
"You know I don't care," Blue said.  
"Yes, but I do." Adam's voice didn't allow for contention.   
"Okay. See you later," Blue said. She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek again and then nearly spun away, pulling up her scarf to cover her head as the rain began to pick up.   
Gansey started to pick up the pace. "Come on, let's get to class before it starts to downpour."

 

Ronan was at Monmouth Manufacturing when his phone rang the first time, sliding in the BMW, slamming the door. The second time it rang he was three blocks away, already racing away towards the edge of the city. He unlocked his phone, typing out a quick, one word message.   
"Now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry it's super short. I honestly started this with no idea but Pynch, so... yeah. Plot to come... 
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Julia ^_^


End file.
